#but these are not the case

[ratguy-nico]

[beemovieerotica]

MANIFESTING

[subatoism]

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[wormspoodle]

idk has someone done this yet

[littlemut]

me: “sorry ): can’t come!! got so much to do at home”

me as soon as im home:

[scramratz]

[karatekamania]

me when someone complains about something that's been genuinely bothering me too but i just brushed it off because i was worried that i was just bitchy/callous/sensitive but now I feel Vindicated

edit: original post is back, given its blown up sm im also linking the vetted fundraisers from Palestinians who've reached out to me recently here, here, here, here, here, here and here! please read their stories, donate if you can, and share them around!

edit 2: terfs get the fuck off this post. guarantee that you're the ones that we're all complaining about behind your backs. im trans and I fucking love my trans siblings of all stripes with all of my heart, way more than your pathetic arses could ever hate them

[bananaeatstape]

not very new hyperfixation rediscovered write a poem abt it

[cradleghost]

Oh jayce

[penumbraphantasm]

chikorita's my friend. my funny animal. my houseplant with little nails that click on the kitchen tiles.

[valtsv]

i really do love those military jackets with embroidery that resembles a gilded ribcage they serve sooooooo much thanatological cunt it's unreal. the memento mori of it all. the bastardised martyrdom. the self-fulfilling prophecy of dressing yourself in silver and gold evoking the final, fragile shield between the most vital, vulnerable parts of you and annihilation, just to go to a place where the objective is to hack it to pieces as cruelly and efficiently as possible until you resemble nothing more than ground meat trodden into the dust you came from. fuck the military for real and forever but they went harder with horrifically ironic self-deceiving propaganda than anyone ever has or will. give it up for the old lie everyone!

[lazylittledragon]

welcome to my crack au where everything was fine and nothing bad ever happened to anyone

[freakalot]

gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because why would you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promises to pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

part 2

[kittykatninja321]

they match each other’s freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public

[lakemojave]

Kendrick Lamar should write a song about being a young witch looking for their neighbor's lost cat in the alps